My sweetheart
by Megan Cross
Summary: Hermione wakes up one day feeling different. Little did she know, that her Gryffindor roomate was taking control of her body to make Ronald Weasley love her. Response to The Forced Coupling Challenge in HPFC forum.


My sweetheart

Lavender & Ron; Ron & Hermione

Harry Potter and all of his characters are not mine, they belong to J.K. Rowling.

This is a fanfic in response to Blackwolf-20's Forced Coupling Challenge in HPFC forum. I hope all of you like it.

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Prologue

After a long night full of dreams of herself being in a cage, Hermione woke up. She, as the rest of her friends, was staying at Grimmauld Place while the Burrow was –once again- reconstructed.

When she opened her eyes, she couldn't avoid being hit with the feeling that something was wrong with her. She felt different.

Hermione felt thrilled, happy and joyful, when just yesterday she was feeling as desperate as the rest of the Wizarding Britain. But today, everything had changed inside her. Somehow, she now was a lot happier and… Vane?

She didn't know what external –or maybe internal?- force made her stand up and walk towards the nearest mirror, noticing the regal way she was now walking with almost immediately. This wasn't her.

The witch stood in front of the onyx and silver mirror in the room she once shared with Ginny during the summer before her sixth year. She frowned at the name of her best female friend. What was happening? The thought of disgust only made her more aware that something was not okay.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror and started to inspect her neck and her chest, as if looking for something that obviously wasn't there. She sighed with relief, for some reason that she didn't quite understand. Yet.

She was Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her generation. She always understood everything!

'Maybe this will be the exception' thought the witch as her reflection started to make annoyed faces at her hair and skin.

She raised her hands until they were at her chest level and frowned. Then, with a sweet and girly voice, she muttered a quiet "Yicks!"

What the hell! Since when did she talk like that? She will have to figure it out later, because right now 'she' was looking for something.

'Hermione' looked around until she found the big door that leaded to the enormous built-in closet. With a foreign anticipation, the witch opened the wooden door and squealed.

She, the Gryffindor prefect and –future- Head Girl, squeals like a little girl! Hermione couldn't believe it! And yet there she was, with a grin and so much excitement for some robes and dresses!

By now, she had figured out that she was not going to recover control of her body for some time and 'decided' to yield her body to whomever was controlling her.

Said 'who' used that power to take some dresses, robes, cloaks, gloves and shoes out of the closet, inspecting them and trying on some of them.

Really! Why would her enforcer take clothes of some Black women and put them on! Clearly, the fake her didn't have any real intelligence because she was just using her body to put on fancy clothes.

She had to admit that some of the dresses were pretty –like the brown with golden the fake Hermione just threw aside- but she disliked them. They reflected the enslavement of witches.

She knew everything about that: witches wore long dresses that covered almost every part of their body in sign of submission to their husbands. It was on Samantha Watson's book, _A guide to muggleborn witches, _which was written by a very brilliant –muggleborn- Ravenclaw witch. Hermione was deeply against that kind of sexism and despised the way pureblood witches gave up her free will only to get a man to love them! It was barbaric. Most definitely, she will never surrender her person to any men!

But neither one of her thoughts and reasoning made the fake Hermione upset, as she continued to put on dress after dress, finally deciding to use a light pink casual dress with a darker pink robe, embroidered with patterns of black flowers.

Humming an unknown song, she made her way to the luxurious bath and looked around.

Suddenly she stopped singing and, with an authoritative voice she had only heard in purebloods, said:

"Elf"

Hermione was outraged! How did her controller dare to invade her body only to have a poor elf suffering under his –or her- enslavement?

Ignorant or indifferent to her anger, her controller talked to Kreacher, who appeared immediately after the fake Hermione's command.

"Miss called for Kreacher?" asked the elf with his big, old eyes, shining.

"Yes, elf" said the one controlling her body. "I want sandalwood essence in my bath, with warm water and freesias shampoo. Get them"

Kreacher didn't share Hermione's indignation, and appeared quite excited at the order he was given.

"Right away, Miss. Kreacher will bring them to you"

He disappeared and reappeared in less than five seconds, holding some phials with smoking essences, pouring them into the warming water.

"Is Miss wanting something more?" asked the hopeful elf.

Hermione wanted to say 'no' and to thank him for helping her even if she was capable herself of doing all of that unnecessary stuff. But the fake Hermione had another idea.

"Take these clothes" she said, giving the gown and robes to the beaming elf ", clean themj and resize them to fit me"

With the real Hermione's disgust, the fake one gave another order.

"Go to Circular Alley and get me a sandalwood lotion, some black, pink and brown stockings and appropriate boots and shoes"

The elf bowed low and said, his voice glowing with his pride of being commended with such an important task: "Kreacher will get them in no time, Miss"

Hermione, the real one, was very angry, confused and powerless. She backed into a corner of her mind, the only place she could act now, sat on the ground and embraced her knees. The muggleborn let a tear escape her eyes and a sob to escape her mouth.

No matter what, she would get her body back.


End file.
